Driving in Cars With Girls
by We're A Two Shot
Summary: Amy does her best to teach Karma how to drive.


**Author's Note: **I was randomly inspired to write this and once I hit my first page the ball kept rolling. I have no idea what Amy and Karma's relationship is in this fic. I don't know if they're already dating or what but I do know that they've faked it before but it's not a huge issue. They're both attracted to each other. Never thought I'd enjoy writing Karma so much either! Enjoy.

* * *

**1 P.M.**

Amy's really fucking scared but she tries not to show it for Karma's sake.

"Okay…for the third time, you're going to put the car in reverse. _Not _drive. Reverse."

"Do I give it gas again or—"

"No, no, no. No more gas," Amy interrupts. "Please. Just…ease off the brake."

"Are—are you sure? Because—"

"Ease off the damn brake, Karma."

The car slides backwards.

"Hands on the wheel, Karma!"

"Okay! I can't concentrate when you're yelling!"

"I'm!" Amy stops to lower her voice, "I'm not _yelling. _Just listen to me, okay? I'm the one with the license."

"Don't rub it in, you ass-hat," Karma hisses. "It's not my fault I've failed the test three times. My instructors have either been too cute for me to concentrate or so close to being my dad's age that I can't do anything but zone out."

"Well now you have me," Amy says. "I'm unconventionally cute but not enough to get you distracted, meanwhile I have the intellect of Gandhi. So there's that.

Amy doesn't miss the slight upturn of Karma's lip. The tamping down of a smile. Amy forces her mind on the task at hand.

"Just…keep all digits, claws and tentacles on the wheel," she says, gripping Karma's white knuckled hands for…training purposes. "Preferably in the ten and two positions."

"What if I'm more of a six and nine kind of girl?"

"Karma Ashcroft."

"Kidding! I'm kidding. _Oh_ _shit_—" the car swings to the left and jerks back to the right so fast Amy struggles to breathe against her strained seatbelt. Karma's forehead creases as she looks in her rear view. She shrugs, saying, "That dirty cone was out of place anyway."

Amy peers behind them and looks back at Karma, "That was someone's garbage can."

Silence.

"Well what do you want me to say?" Karma asks when she notices Amy's glaring at her. "I don't have my contacts in."

* * *

**1:45 P.M.**

"You were supposed to make a complete stop back there."

Karma glances over at Amy, popping her bubble gum. "I did."

Amy allows a moment to pass to regain her patience before saying, "You stalled for half a second and then took off while that old lady was crossing."

The gum pops. "She wasn't even close though," Karma says.

"Didn't you see the way she flipped us off? Cane and all!"

Karma scoffs. "Are you kidding me? She was _waving_."

"Yeah! Maybe waving for the police!" Amy shouts back.

"Looked like it though," Karma says.

"Unbelievable," Amy mumbles while shaking her head. She slumps further into the seat.

"Believe it," Karma says just as she flies straight past another stop sign.

A pause.

She doesn't need to hear Amy's voice to know she's burning a hole in her head.

"Okay, my bad there."

* * *

**2:45 P.M.**

"What?_"_

"Just get out and I'll drive us back."

Amy's already circling around the car. Karma's meeting her half way but not without the hugest frown on her face. As Amy pasts her, she makes sure to kick her foot out to connect with Karma's ass.

Karma gawks at her. "Rude, much?"

Amy shoots her a grin and opens the driver's door. Karma leans against the passenger with her arms crossed.

"I'm not getting in, Amy."

The blonde takes her time to fully roll her eyes. "I never said you were a completely horrible driver."

"You didn't say anything else either," Karma snaps back.

"What do you want me to say?" Amy doesn't realize she's shouting until she notices a neighbored couple a house down watching their dispute with obvious concern. "_Hon_, don't make me have to use my obnoxious fake girlfriend voice," she whispers. "You really don't want to be doing this."

"What, Amy, am I doing?" Karma asks, not at all game to mincing her words right now. "Since you're such a superior being and can apparently read my thoughts now."

"You're sulking," Amy says, dropping the act. Concerned neighbors be damned. "We were all shitty drivers once—_I _was a shitty driver. I'm just," she flails her arms for a moment, looking for the right thing to—"I want you to be safe," she admits in a tone quiet enough for just Karma to hear. "There, I said it."

Karma unfolds her arms and rests them over the hood of the car. She looks at Amy and waits.

"And if you drive so, so _recklessly _how am I supposed to protect you?" Amy taps her fingers over the hood, awaiting Karma's answer.

"Gee, I don't know, _Dad_," she remarks with a smile playing at her lips.

"Ew, so not even close." Amy pulls a face. "I'm serious though. Get in the car."

"Or what?"

A subtle shiver runs down Amy's back at the way Karma holds her gaze.

"Or…" a smile blooms on Amy's face, "Or I'm telling your mom we broke up and you'll never hear the end of it."

Karma's face drops. "You wouldn't. She would literally have to burn every wedding invitation she's probably already made."

"Or just get us back together." Amy's eyes widen. "And who knows how awkward that could get."

"Her locking us in a room together while my dad's soundtrack of bonobo apes mating plays from a CD player. Hoping we'll copulate our way back into love?"

Amy stares at her. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just think all of that up in your head. And get in the car," she adds. "I'm with or without you, Ashcroft."

Karma huffs and joins Amy in the car.

"You're with, you're with," she mumbles. "Are you starving? I'm starving."

"Seatbelts," Amy says while locking herself in.

Karma watches her with a smile.

"I guess I like watching you drive anyway."

Amy looks over at her. "Yeah?"

"You make cute faces," Karma says in a lower tone. "And you always kind of…drape your wrists on the wheel when the light's red. Your wrists are really like, what's the word for it?" she pauses to think…"Dainty! That's it."

Amy snorts. "You like my wrists?" She sits up a little straighter in her seat. "Gee, Karma. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me."

"Well definitely not when you snort like _that, _I mean my _God_—ow! Don't pinch my sides!" Karma squirms away from Amy's hands. "You know they're still tender from those oblique exercises I did at the gym."

"You did four and a half reps," Amy scoffs. "Hardly tissue tearing."

"Whatever," Karma mutters. "Seriously though, you wanna get food? I'll pay. Only if you expose your wrists to me though."

Amy slowly shakes her head. "Sadly I'm not that kind of girl."

"Yes you are," Karma says, oddly serious all of a sudden.

Amy swallows as the air grows thick. She's oddly unable to think of anything witty to say at this very moment to pry away the look Karma's giving her right now. The look that says—

"I like your lips, too," Karma continues. "When you're driving. You bite down when there's traffic. Like you're holding something in."

A confidence only Karma knows how to bring out stirs inside of Amy. Her fingers grip the steering wheel tight but she forces herself to say what she needs to.

"That's not just with traffic," she says, shaking her head more subtle this time. She wets her lips and actually enjoys the way her heart hammers against her chest. "I—I kind of want to bite right now."

Karma edges closer (as close as they can be in a fucking Nissan). Their faces nearly touch and Karma sees every little detail Amy's smooth complexion has to offer. She glances at her lips; those slightly parted, _welcoming _lips and she sighs out her answer: "What's stopping you?"

Amy bumps their noses together, hovers her lips over Karma's and whispers, "My seatbelt."

Karma rolls her eyes hard.

"You actually just killed it," she says over Amy's laughing, "but I forgive you." She leans her forehead against the blonde and scrunches her nose. "Now will you please fucking kiss me?"

"No cursing in my mom's car."

"Sorry."

"Fucking kidding," Amy says just before catching Karma's lip.

Karma still tastes like the bubble gum Amy made her toss out the window 30 minutes ago, and smells like those weird patchouli incense her parents leave lit around the house. Amy finds it best not to make a remark about making out with what the Earth probably smells like right now because she's…she's actually making out with _Karma_. And Amy would rather never speak again than to ruin a moment like this.

"Back seat," Karma breathes.

Amy unlocks her seatbelt and manages to crawl into the back of the car with Karma without actually giving her a concussion.

And it's on. Karma presses Amy into the seat and unleashes an angry, wet fury on her neck. Amy gasps at everything: the way Karma's hips pin hers in place, the way her thumb traces the pulse of her _dainty _wrist, the way her lips treat the underside of her jaw.

By the time their lips reconnect, Amy's overheating. Her skin's the kind of red of Karma's lip stick—that's quickly being kissed off. She's careful with Karma's lips but firm. There's a moment where they part to take a breath but Amy can't wait; she slips her tongue inside and the throatiest kind of moan fills the car. The kind of moan that has Amy's fingers digging into Karma's sides—obliques be damned.

"Jesus, Amy."

"I know," the blonde huffs back before seizing her best friend's jaw with her hand and pulling her lips in for a kiss. There's no dominance in the kiss. Their tongues sweep lazily because time isn't an issue and Amy wants to remember every texture. She also wants to remember the little sounds Karma makes every time Amy touches something new.

Karma's hand works its way under Amy's tank top. She lightly scrapes her nails against the smooth skin she finds there which inspires Amy to bite her lip. The brunette's hand journeys upward, towards what she really wants. Her fingers close around Amy's bra cup and—

A knock on the window.

The girls freeze mid everything. They glance up to see the neighbored couple from earlier peering into the car.

They quickly situate themselves to look less…active and Amy cracks the door open.

"Uh, hi. How—how can I help you?" Amy's voice cracks mid-sentence.

The man of the couple is so tall he has to lean down for Amy to see his deep, disapproving frown.

"We'd just like you girls to know we know what you're doing," the man's voice crumbles out like gravel.

"And we've called the neighborhood watch," his wife finishes, hand over her chest, clearly appalled.

Amy opens her mouth to speak—

"Don't you have anything better to do than watch two teenagers make out in a car?"

"_Karma._"

"If anything," Karma leans over the seat to look the couple in the eyes, "we should be calling neighborhood watch on _you_."

"How dare you!" the woman gasps.

"We'll be taking our business elsewhere. Thank you," Amy says and shuts the door on them.

Amy crawls back into the front seat (without concussing Karma) and restarts the car. Karma plops back into the passenger seat and opens the sun visor mirror to check her hair.

"I'm not that hungry anymore," Karma says while applying more lipstick.

"Me neither," Amy stares at her lips as she says it. She blinks back into reality. "Do you want to come over and watch TV for a bit? Lauren isn't there so no one will complain about the—about the noise."

Karma closes the cap on her lipstick and nods furiously.

* * *

**3:30 P.M.**

Upstairs, in Amy's bedroom, with her desk chair wedged under the door knob, Cake Boss plays on low with Karma turned all the way up and Amy at mid-volume.

No, Karma still hasn't fully distinguished the difference between gas and brake; and yes, they'll probably be fined with destruction of property for that garbage can, but Amy still considers this day a complete success.

Driving lesson one: complete.


End file.
